Five Things
by Alyson
Summary: Five things that never happened to Patrick and Robin. 5 unrelated ficlets, AU.


Title: Five Things

Author: Alyson

Disclaimer: Don't own them, no infringement intended, etc. Original quotes used in **One **and **Four**, copyright GH, ABC, and related affiliates.

Rating: T, no real bad words, some grown up themes.

Summary: Five things that never happened to Patrick and Robin, from the serious to the silly and back again.

Author's Notes: 5 AU stories, unconnected - basically, 5 ficlets that came about when Patrick and Robin wouldn't stop muttering in my ear. Many thanks to the transcripts at TVMegasite for the assist getting direct quotes. Feedback welcomed and cherished. (Hopefully third time's the charm with the upload, the formatting is killing me!)

**

* * *

One **

"You let me believe you were dead! Or worse, that you were brutally murdered. Why should I ever listen to anything you have to say ever again?"

"Because, still and all, I'm am your mother, Patrick."

Dr. Patrick Drake was a brilliant neurosurgeon who routinely had to make split life-and-death decisions. He didn't back away from any challenge. He could handle a lot.

He couldn't handle this. Not right now. Not with the hospital being increasingly inundated with ill patients of some unknown virus. Not with so many questions swirling in his brain and no time to get the answers.

His first reaction to seeing her had been joy, pure unadulterated joy. His mother! Alive! The euphoria lasted but a split second before the doubt and the anger went through his body like lightening. He had thought the scars from her death, or "death", had been healed. She'd just ripped them open, without benefit of a scalpel.

"I don't want to hear that you're my _mother_," he said the word as an epithet, his raised voice bouncing off the walls in the small office. "My mother died years ago. We mourned her and tried to move on. We…" he couldn't continue. The thoughts were so jumbled.

"Patrick, I'm sorry! There are reasons that I couldn't come back and I'll try to explain."

Despite the pain, he marveled at the sound of her voice. He and his father had been through so much, all for a woman who had left and then lived without them, but his 8-year old self still softened at hearing her voice.

"Let me guess, those reasons have to do with the Agency?" he practically spit out that last word.

"It's complicated, but," she was interrupted when the door opened.

"Is everything," Robin faltered to see Patrick standing in what could only be described as a face-off with a very beautiful woman, "ok?" she finished rather lamely.

Patrick turned to Robin with an indecipherable look on his face and with a flourish turned back to the woman, "Dr. Robin Scorpio, I'd like to introduce my mother, Marguerite Devereaux Drake. Maggie to her friends, Dead to her family."

"Patrick!" his mother gasped as she shot him a reproving look. She gathered her cool and nodded in greeting towards their visitor, "Dr Scorpio."

Having had a mother herself who'd come back from the dead, Robin was more composed than most would be at this moment, but she could empathize with Patrick and moved closer to him, putting a comforting hand on his arm. "Mrs. Drake, it's a pleasure," she said it to the woman almost distractedly, while having eyes only for Patrick and the storm raging on his face. She didn't know the circumstances, but it was obviously not a happy reunion.

"Please, call me Maggie," and turning back to Patrick, "I'm sorry this happened this way. I have so much to say and so little time to say it. I've done this all wrong, but there just isn't time!"

"You've had more than twenty years, Mom, how much more time do you need?" Robin could feel him become even more tense beside her as a realization struck him. "Does Dad know?"

Maggie shook her head, clearly trying to keep her emotions in check at the mention of her husband, "No and I didn't want him, either of you, to find out like this. We're very short-staffed because of the outbreak. I'm not even supposed to be here."

She knew it was the wrong way to put it as soon as the saw the shuttered look pass over Patrick's face. She was a goddamned pro and she was screwing this up like it was her first day on the job.

"Great, finding out my mother was alive was a mistake," he was disgusted with her by now, his anger raging.

Robin interrupted, partly out of a need to diffuse the situation, partly because mention of the virus, "What about the virus? What do you know?"

Maggie was clearly grateful for the young doctor's intervention, and the protective way the beautiful young woman stood with her son did not go unnoticed, either.

"I'm with the Medical Rescue Agency, currently tracking the virus that I'm fairly certain has come to Port Charles. I have more people on the way and a lead on an antiviral serum."

Robin looked at Patrick, squeezing his arm in support while directing her comments to his mother, "We need to have you meet with our supervisors so we can compare information. But before that, Noah should probably be informed."

"I'll do it," Patrick looked his mother square in the eye, "stay here, we'll be back in a couple of minutes." He put his hand over Robin's, still on his arm, and squeezed while looking down at her, "Will you come with me?"

She looked up at him, momentarily mesmerized by the strength and fragility at war in his features, "Of course, let's go."

**

* * *

Two **

Dr. Robin Scorpio was exhausted. She'd had a long day at work and she hoped that the short walk back to her apartment would reenergize her, rather than make her wish she'd taken her car in to work today.

It really was a glorious late spring day. The sun had set, but the sky was still light, awash in pinks and blues.

She was a couple of blocks from the hospital, just passing Smithson's Dry Cleaners when she was brought up short by the sound of moaning. A quick look around the nearly deserted section of the block revealed no obvious source, so she peered a little closer into the alley next to the cleaners and heard the sound again.

Definitely moaning.

Robin was fully schooled in the art of self-defense, but still pulled out her pepper spray and her cell phone. She quickly dialed 911; she'd just have to press 'Send' should the need arise. But she was also a doctor and wouldn't ignore someone in need of help.

She took a wide berth around the large dumpster near the mouth of the alley and called out, "Hello? Is someone there? Are you ok?"

The moaning got a little louder as she got deeper into the alley, so that she could see around the dumpster. She saw his legs first, then rushed around so she could see all of him. Scrubs. Whoever he was, he was in hospital scrubs! She didn't let go of the pepper spray, but she did rush over, pausing when the body rolled towards her. 'Patrick!' "Oh God!" she breathed, dropping to her knees at her side, dropping the pepper spray to check his pulse while hitting 'Send' and giving their location and the few details she could ascertain on his condition while she was speaking to the operator.

"Patrick, it's Robin, I've called for help," she touched him gently on the shoulder, not sure exactly where the blood that was on him had come from, but it was clear he'd been beaten.

"Robin? What are you doing here?" he was nearly whispering, obviously in a great deal of pain., curled in on himself.

"I was walking home. I shouldn't have to tell you, but don't try to move anymore, ok? The ambulance should be here in a sec. I'll call Emily so she can meet us at the hospital." He and Emily had started dating before the outbreak and to everyone's surprise, they'd been going strong ever since. Emily was the envy of much of the female staff, that was for certain.

"No! No, don't."

She could tell he was clearly agitated at the mention of Emily's name. Strange.

"Emily and I broke up last night." He hurriedly added, "mutual decision. It's fine, I'll be fine."

He had curled in upon himself more, cradling his right hand. The action didn't go unnoticed by Robin.

"Patrick, you're not fine. What happened to you? And what's wrong with your hand?"

"Nothing happened. Nothing. Just don't bother Emily. It wasn't her fault."

Robin was sure delirium was setting in, as he wasn't making any sense. "Her fau.." Oh God. "Oh Patrick! Sonny! It was Sonny, wasn't it? Emily told me how he threatened you when you guys first started going out. Tell me he didn't, oh God, tell me he didn't!"

Her words were coming faster and faster as she gently turned him just enough to get a look at his hand. She forced herself to maintain a non-reaction as she saw the mangled flesh. She could feel Patrick's glazed eyes on her. He was out of it, but not _that _out of it. He knew the damage that had been done. So did she. His career may very well be over.

He said nothing. The look in his eyes said it all. She was heartbroken for him. He was an egotistical ass much of the time, but he was one of the most brilliant and talented men she would probably ever meet in her lifetime. The skill with which he could save lives was a gift, something to be treasured, not destroyed.

She was also heartbroken for herself and for the loss of any good memories she had of Sonny. He was irrevocably tied to Stone in her heart and mind, but this blatant reminder of just what kind of man he choose to be would forever taint those memories.

She was never so glad to hear sirens as she was when she finally heard his rescuers approach their scene. She tried to comfort him, reassure him that he'd be ok, but they both knew that might not be the case.

**

* * *

Three **

"Hey, Robin! Wait up!"

Robin Scorpio slowed her pace, but didn't stop completely. If she was late for Chemistry one more time this semester, it was detention for sure.

"Hey, Patrick, what's up?"

Patrick Drake slung one arm around his best friend's slight shoulders, "So, how long have we known each other?" he asked in that wheedling tone she knew only too well.

Robin rolled her eyes. He only pulled out that line when he needed something. Something he knew she wasn't going to want to give him. But she played her part, as she always did.

"Since your family moved back here when you were in the 5th grade and I was in the 3rd and you rescued me from those horrible 6th grade girls picking on me," she finished with a long-suffering sigh. "What do you need?"

"Who says I need anything? Can't a guy just reminisce with a friend? Maybe it's the end of high school that's making me look back and reflect," he finished with an innocent and partly offended look.

Robin wasn't fooled. "Ha! Reflection my a.."

"Hey!" he interrupted. "Do I need to talk to your parents about your language, young lady?" he teased.

"Oh please," she scoffed. "My parents scare the living crap out of you. What, I repeat, do you need? If you make me late for class, I will _kill_ you when I get out of detention."

"Okay, okay!" he finally surrendered, throwing his hands up. "I need some details on Liz's schedule."

"Liz? Why do you need info on Liz?" She stopped walking, she was that puzzled.

Having been surprised at her sudden stop, he had to turn back. "Because," he tossed out rather lamely, while looking anywhere but at her.

'Oh, not a good sign,' Robin though. Patrick wouldn't even look her in the eye. She waiting impatiently, tapping her foot. "I don't have all day, Patrick."

"Because I wanted to ask her to the Prom and I need to know when she's free," he finished in a rush of words.

Robin continued her walk to class, confusion all over her features. "Liz. My best friend Liz. Elizabeth Webber? That Liz? Why would you think of asking her to the Prom? Why would you _need_ to ask her to the Prom? Have you gone through all the eligible girls in school and she's the only one left?"

"Hey! I think I'm offended at that implication!"

"No need to be offended. It's not an implication, it's the truth. In four short years, I believe you have dated almost every girl of a suitable age - and if rumors I've heard of your Freshman year are true, not so suitable as well," she fixed him with a pointed look. "Now it's time for the Prom and what, she's the only girl left? No. No way am I helping you with this one. You are not going to break Liz's heart."

"God, you make me sound like such a, a.."

"Romeo? Casanova? Lothario?" she offered helpfully, but with a smile to lessen the sting.

"You are such a brat, sometimes," he pouted.

She tucked her arm through his, "Patrick, you're one of my oldest and dearest friends. So is Liz, and by the way, she's much too good for you. I tell you this as a friend, one day far in the future you will meet a woman who is smart and beautiful and puts your heart on notice. She will challenge you and she will be worth it. But you're not ready for that. Right now you're still in your wild oat-sowing phase."

"Am I?" he chuckled. He couldn't help it. Here he was, about to graduate high school and he was being lectured to by a smart-ass 16 year-old.

"Yes, and I will assist, and have, in many of your schemes, but I won't be a party to you adding Liz to your list of conquests. Besides," she added, skipping ahead just a bit, "she's already going with Lucky."

He stopped short, "Well, why didn't you just tell me that in the first place!"

She laughed at the annoyed look on his face. "Because," she laughed as she once again grabbed his arm to keep him moving, "I love to tease you."

"Oh, you do, do you?" He couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes, indeed I do. But also, you're getting ready to head out to the big, bad world and it's time you knew." She pulled away at the sound of the first bell and started walking faster. "Mark my words, you'll meet that woman some day. Someone who'll make you work for her. And she _will_ be worth it. I'll see you later!" She finally took off at a run, leaving him standing there nearly all alone in the quad.

'Yes, I'm sure I will. If I haven't already' he thought, still chuckling, as he headed off to the cafeteria for lunch.

**

* * *

Four **

"Hey."

"Hey. You look tired."

Patrick _was_ tired. He was bone weary, for more reasons than just being on his feet for more hours in a row than he could previously remember. The epidemic that had hit the hospital was pushing everyone to their limits. Leave it to Robin to concentrate on others instead of thinking about her own delicate condition. It was her M.O. And it wasn't always a good thing.

"Yeah." He didn't elaborate, not wanting to put more of what was happening outside her door on her shoulders. He sat heavily in the chair next to her bed and looked at her, trying to compose himself. This was new to him, caring so much. Too much.

"I need to know what I'm up against; how I'm doing." She clasped her hands. Waiting.

He paused. Not sure how to say it. Not _wanting_ to say it.

"You're failing. On every level." He put it plainly. He could have been clinical and detailed the numerous ways her body was shutting down and how they were unable to prevent it or fix it. Unlike the majority of patients, she would have understood every technical term he would have used. But he didn't want to hide behind words, not with her. Not now.

"Oh, okay."

It was a stupid thing to say, really, but he couldn't fault her. Just what is one supposed to say in this situation? He could see her trying to be brave and not quite being successful. It was in the way her breath hitched, ever so slightly. The way she wouldn't look him in the eye. The way her hands, which had been loosely clasped, tightened almost imperceptibly. She didn't want to die, but then again, she didn't want to live at the expense of others, either. He hated her at that moment, just a little, when he saw the realization of her own death hit her. Was pained for her. With her.

He leaned in and reached one hand out, putting it on her much smaller and colder ones. She grasped it between hers greedily, as if it was her only lifeline. He supposed it was. He was. His other hand rested at her hip, offering warmth, support.

The whisper, when it came a few moments later in the quiet, startled him, "Will you stay with me a while?"

He broke his gaze from their hands to look up at her face, which was composed, marble-still, and focused on their hands in her lap. Nothing more than a muffled "Uh-huh" could get past the lump that had formed in his throat. He had to clear it, twice, when he realized he'd forgotten to tell her that Liz was desperately trying to get in touch with Robin's mother.

Mention of her mother caused her hands to tighten around his in a grip that belied her waning physical status. It didn't last long, but that brief spark of life caused his anger to flair up again. Anger at himself - for not being able to do a damn thing to help her. Anger at her - for not getting in the elevator, for being so damn selfless, for leaving him. Her energy fled as quickly as it came. When her grip loosened so did her tears, as she just didn't have it in her to keep them at bay any longer. The hand at her hip moved to her face. He gently brushed away her tears, feeling the most useless he'd ever felt in his life.

"Tell Liz thanks for me. I left my Mom another message a little while ago." What she didn't say aloud was that it was a goodbye message, but it was written all over her face. She took a ragged breath, the physical toll of the last few minutes catching up to her, "I'm sorry, Patrick". She looked up at him, her fear and sorrow plain on her face.

With that, he moved to sit gently at her side, one hand still clasped in hers. He leaned over and placed a soft kiss at her temple, "There's nothing to be sorry for."

She shook her head, "I'm sorry that I didn't see what a good man you are, that _you_ didn't let me see it before now. I'm sorry that I won't get to see you make up with your father." Her breathing was becoming more and more labored, but she continued in a harsh whisper, "I'm sorry that I left things the way I did with my father."

It was all Patrick could do to get the words out, "Your father knows he screwed up, but he knows that you love him."

"I'm not sorry that I'm being selfish right now and keeping you from your other patients. I probably should be, but I'm not."

He wanted to make a joke about her finally finding him irresistible, but even he couldn't go there. Not with his heart so heavy and his eyes full of tears. "I don't have anywhere else I need to be."

Somehow, despite her too shallow breathing and her rapidly deteriorating condition, she managed a tremulous smile, "Talk to me? Tell me about what you were like as a kid, or about your favorite surgeries," she was wheezing now, "anything".

And so he just started talking. About random things at first, then more personal. And finally, long after he should have stopped, he just kept speaking, to keep out the silence.

Finally, he reached over, closed her eyes, and wept.

**

* * *

Five **

"Agent Scorpio, we've got Cassadine secured. He's muttering about booby traps, though, so head's up. Team One Out."

"I'm not surprised. That family has always been on the crazy side. Put two extra men on him and make sure everyone is on high alert until we can sweep and secure the compound. I'm going after the hostage. Scorpio Out."

Stealth and extreme care were always of utmost importance, but especially on any mission dealing with the bloody Cassadines and unfortunately, Nicholas Cassadine was proving no less difficult than his elders.

Three floors below the basement was where the cells had been built. It was a maze of hallways and dead ends down there, but current technology made pinpointing their hostage relatively easy.

The doctor looked askance as the door was blown open.

"Dr. Drake, it's okay. I need you to come with me, are you all right?"

The handsome young doctor got his bearings quickly and replied with obvious relief in his voice, mixed in with equal amounts fear and impatience, "Aside from being held captive by a crazy man who wanted me to revive his frozen uncle, being starved, occasionally beaten and generally mistreated, yeah, I'll live. But who are you, exactly?"

"I'm with the WSB, Dr. Drake."

"Patrick, please."

"Patrick. I'm Agent Scorpio. Agent Robin Scorpio. I'm here to rescue you." The beautiful agent reached out her hand and assisted the handsome doctor to safety.

Another mission accomplished.

End


End file.
